


Aching to be Saved

by MercurialTenacity



Series: It's A Cruel World for Small Things [10]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Captivity, Cock Warming, Crying, Dark Original Percival Graves, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kissing, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Power Dynamics, Sounding, Tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25828174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MercurialTenacity/pseuds/MercurialTenacity
Summary: Graves used to be the predictable one.Credence could tell when he was working and shouldn’t be bothered, and when he should offer up his body.  When Graves used him it was straightforward; he wanted Credence to be cooperative, not make too much noise, and usually let him sleep in the bed after.  He was never gentle, but he didn’t deliberately cause pain.  His punishments were terrible, sometimes even worse than the things Grindelwald does to him, but they only happened when Credence was very bad.Then Graves kissed him, and Credence doesn’t know what to think anymore.
Relationships: Credence Barebone/Original Percival Graves
Series: It's A Cruel World for Small Things [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/734520
Comments: 25
Kudos: 90





	Aching to be Saved

Graves used to be the predictable one.

Credence could tell when he was working and shouldn’t be bothered, and when he should offer up his body. When Graves used him it was straightforward; he wanted Credence to be cooperative, not make too much noise, and usually let him sleep in the bed after. He was never gentle, but he didn’t deliberately cause pain. His punishments were terrible, sometimes even worse than the things Grindelwald does to him, but they only happened when Credence was very bad.

Then Graves kissed him, and Credence doesn’t know what to think anymore. Graves hasn’t used him in days. Not since that night. Credence wishes he would, because when Graves doesn’t use him Grindelwald does, but he’s scared of it too. He’s no longer sure what Graves wants or how to give it to him, he could make countless mistakes without even realizing it, and the thought makes his hands shake.

He longs for a return to normalcy, to be used for a simple rough fuck. Perhaps it’s a test and Graves is waiting for Credence to demonstrate that he still knows his place. Perhaps if Credence just proves it well enough Graves will use him again and the past few days will be forgotten. Credence will know how to please him.

The longer Credence waits the more convinced he becomes that he’s making a terrible mistake in failing to offer himself. He can’t take another day of this. He can’t stop what’s to come, he can’t change it, but the sooner it happens the sooner he can start figuring out how to live with it. He just wants to know what’s expected of him.

He goes to Graves, he has to. Credence finds him writing while afternoon sunlight slants across his desk, and for the briefest moment he hesitates. He doesn’t know if this is the right thing to do, he just prays it won’t make things worse. He kneels at Graves’ feet, his head bowed and hands resting on his thighs, and he waits.

The scratch of Graves’ quill is familiar, interrupted only by the occasional rustle of parchment. Graves doesn’t acknowledge him, but Credence isn’t asking for acknowledgement. The last thing he wants is to disturb Graves’ work, and he makes himself as small and quiet as he can. He just wants to offer himself.

After a moment Graves’ quill pauses, and he just shakes his head and says, “At least make yourself useful.” He shifts and spreads his thighs apart, and Credence feels a dizzying wave of gratitude at the familiar command. He crawls under the desk and carefully unbuttons Graves’ trousers, takes out his cock - soft for the moment - and takes it in his mouth, mindful of his teeth. Graves is busy so Credence doesn’t suck, he just rests Graves’ cock on his tongue and closes his eyes.

Credence has done this more times than he can count, and he could cry with how relieved he is to be doing something normal again. Graves lets out a breath and the scratch of his quill continues.

Graves doesn’t look up from his work until the shadows are long across the floor, but eventually he leans back in his chair.

"Boy."

Credence looks up. 

Graves looks at him like he hasn’t quite decided something, and Credence has the terrible feeling in his stomach that he’s about to be punished. He shouldn’t have done this. He should have offered himself to Grindelwald instead, he should -

Graves pushes Credence off his cock and tucks himself away. “What are you?”

Credence’s brow furrows, eyes darting as he tries to understand the question. “Sir?” Graves doesn’t say anything, so Credence hazards, “Yours, sir.”

Graves’ jaw tenses, but he nods. “Mine, and?”

“And - yours and, and Mr. Grindelwald’s, sir.”

Something darkens in Graves’ expression, and Credence doesn’t know what he did wrong. He understands that he belongs to them, he accepts it, maybe he wasn’t enthusiastic enough?

Before he can start babbling apologies Graves stands and takes him by the hair, and it only takes a moment for Credence to be led off and positioned on his back on Graves’ bed.

Normally Credence would now be fucked roughly while Graves holds him down, but nothing is normal anymore. Graves turns to sort through his dresser drawer, and Credence is left to wait.

“Tell me about the things he does to you.”

Graves doesn’t have to specify that he means Grindelwald. There’s no one else in Credence’s life besides the two of them.

“He…” Credence doesn’t know what Graves wants to hear. “He often - he often cuts me, sir. I beg for it,” he adds quickly, so Graves won’t think he’s complaining. Graves doesn’t say anything, so Credence tries something else. 

“A while ago he opened - he stretched me open so he could fit both fists inside and - and then he beat my hole, sir.” The memory makes him feel slightly nauseous. Grindelwald had made him beg to be stretched and then punished him for being too sloppy, and Credence knows he deserved it. Graves still doesn’t react though, and Credence is growing desperate. 

“A few nights ago he chained my tongue ring to his bedpost, and then in the morning he gave me a weight to wear on it while I worshiped his cock.” Credence’s tongue and jaw had been agonizingly sore, but that hardly matters. “Please, sir,” he begs. It’s everything he can do to stay lying on the bed and not get on his knees and plead for Graves to tell him what to do.

"He doesn't often touch your dick though, does he?" Graves turns and approaches the bed, holding something Credence can’t quite see.

"No, sir. Sometimes to hurt it, but… Mr Grindelwald says it - that it's useless and best ignored."

"And you don't touch it."

"No, sir!" Credence says, shaking his head. He wouldn't, he knows better.

Graves sits beside him on the bed, and one by one he lays out a collection of thin metal rods. “Then he won’t have done this.”

Credence doesn’t want to imagine what those rods are for. Graves isn’t supposed to play with him, that’s what Grindelwald does - why is this happening? He feels his eyes pricking with tears and squeezes them shut.

Graves rests a hand on his thigh. “Boy,” he says, and for a long moment it seems like he’s about to say more. Then he takes his hand away, and when Credence feels his touch again it’s on his cock, his palm slippery.

Credence barely contains a flinch, though he was expecting Graves to touch him there sooner or later. He’s more surprised that it doesn’t hurt yet. He would almost prefer if it did - he’s learned that the longer pain takes to come, the worse it will be.

Graves’ fist is warm and slick, and Credence is ashamed to get him so dirty. Nevertheless Graves strokes him, slow and long, until he starts to harden. Credence braces himself for the pain to start at any moment.

When Graves’ hand leaves him Credence turns his head away, fists clenching in the sheets, and waits.

After a moment Graves squeezes his thigh, stroking with his thumb in a way that’s almost soothing. Credence knows that trick, though - Grindelwald uses it often, and in the beginning he’d fallen for it every time. Grindelwald would offer some small gesture of comfort and Credence, desperate for affection, would immediately sink into it. Then, with his guard down, Grindelwald would start the pain. Now Credence knows better.

Graves must realize he won’t take the bait because his hand returns to Credence’s cock, holding it firmly in place, and a moment later something smooth and cold circles his slit. Credence swallows hard as it teases the head of his cock, nudging against the tiny opening, and concentrates on not flinching away. He’s too afraid to look.

The cold metal rests against his slit, the angle shifts - and Credence cries out as Graves starts to push. There’s a moment of pressure before it gives and allows the very tip to slip inside, stretching the opening of a place that wasn't meant to be stretched. Credence never knew it was possible to be penetrated there; to have something inside his cock. He’s too shocked to react properly as the rod sinks into him, and Graves manages to work it in half an inch before Credence starts to cry.

It feels so wrong. The sensation is alien, he never could have imagined it and he never wants to feel it again. His cock must be bulging around the intrusion - grotesque images flash through his mind and he bites his lip hard, trying to pretend it isn’t happening.

His mind can’t escape. The sensations are too strange and each change jolts him back - the rod is sinking into him now, sliding deeper through its own weight. His dick seems to make room for it, and as it rubs against the inside of his shaft it lights up nerve endings he didn’t know he had. His thighs tremble when Graves pulls it out to the tip and then lets it sink in again, slowly fucking his cock and violating him in a way Credence wouldn’t have thought possible.

Each time the rod fucks him it sinks a little deeper, and Credence has the sudden, sickening thought that he has no idea how deep inside it will go. He can feel his chest tightening with the kind of panic that gets him in trouble, he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold still - and then the rod  _ touches _ something inside and the pleasure blooming behind his eyelids wipes away everything else. His hips can’t help jerking up in response. It’s like the spot in his ass that sometimes gets bumped when he’s fucked but so much more intense, he can barely think, and he can’t help it - he opens his eyes to look.

It’s both better and worse than he thought. His prick isn’t bulging, but seeing it skewered with the rod sticking out the tip makes his stomach turn. The rod bobs as he watches, rising when his muscles contract and sinking when he relaxes, gently fucking his very core. He can feel it all the way down to the root of his cock. 

“Perfect,” Graves says. “You feel it inside?” He nudges it, sparking off another wave of overwhelming sensations, and Credence whimpers. “That’s a good boy.”

The pleasure builds and Graves just keeps working him, touching that spot inside until he can’t help but spill. His balls tense, his cock pulses, and he’s coming harder than he has any right to.

Credence pants, shocked and disbelieving. His head is spinning in the aftermath of such pleasure, leaving everything fuzzy and distant. When he finally lifts his head to look finds the rod laying on the bed between his legs, apparently squirted out when he came, along with messy droplets of come. Graves is still above him, one hand on his hip, and Credence blinks up at him. Graves hasn’t hurt him. Credence was sure he would, and yet... This is the second time Graves has made him come. Not incidentally while fucking him, but intentionally.

Graves is looking at him with a most peculiar expression. Rather, he seems to be watching the tears rolling down Credence’s cheeks, looking almost dazed. Credence looks up at him, and Graves leans in to kiss a tear from his heated skin. His lips are soft and warm, a caress against his cheek. Credence doesn’t know why Graves does it, but in his hazy afterglow he finds he’s just grateful. Graves reaches between them, taking Credence’s softening cock in his palm while kissing away another tear.

“What is this?” he asks, and Credence knows the answer with absolute clarity.

“Yours,” he whispers.

“And?”

“Yours, sir. Just yours.”

As Graves’ tongue parts his lips Credence has the unbidden thought that perhaps it’s all right to enjoy the pleasure while he can. Pain will come later, he knows, but in this moment - Graves’ weight above him, thoroughly kissing him, thumb stroking his cheek - he feels good.


End file.
